


when the man comes around

by Own_It



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Dark Stiles, F/M, Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nogitsune Stiles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, So much angst, Violence, Wouldn't really say magic stiles, hurt everyone tbh, idk what else to put on here, no happy endings really, nogitsune fox fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Own_It/pseuds/Own_It
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stiles was taken in for his tests and the nogitsune took over the generator exploded and the wire flew wild. Kira, however, absorbed the electricity and the wire was no longer live. The nogitsune was none too pleased about this fact and realized it wasn't strong enough just yet to take on the kitsune. It retreats back and lets Stiles out, though the teen has no recollection of getting dressed or leaving the hospital. </p>
<p>Scott decides then to pretend nothing happened and encourages everyone else to do the same. He tells Derek not to acknowledge it either, at least until they can figure out how to rid Stiles of the spirit. Derek, despite the progress he and Scott made, was none too pleased with this plan. The nogitsune lies in waiting and terrible things are about to unfold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> " _And I heard as it were the noise of thunder_  
>  One of the four beasts saying come and see and I saw  
> And behold a white horse"

Stiles had been told that Derek had fixed his Jeep the night he was found in the coyote den. It was a small fact that Stiles found supremely interesting, to say the least. The young man's eyebrows were pressed together in concentration as he left the high school. His head was lowered, eyes trailing the ground as he strode down the steps and off towards his Jeep.

"Stiles!" 

The voice seemed like the crack of a whip through his mind, his head shooting up and brows following suit. Scott's face was almost pleasantly neutral as he approached but Stiles could see the concern in his gaze. If he wasn't mistaken there had been an underlying look of wariness. 

"I've been calling your name didn't you hear me?" Scott asked calmly.

Stiles' fingers unfurled from where they had been wrapped around his backpack straps for a brief moment before returning where they had been.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you," was all he said in response, eyes dancing away from his best friend's eyes and back again. 

He watched Scott's eyebrow twitch and his lips pull down in the slightest of frowns. "Are you okay man?"

Stiles felt like his nod was too soon, too rehearsed. He's heard the question so many times since that night at the hospital. The night he hardly remembers and honestly doesn't ever want to, according to the bits and pieces he had been told of.

"Yeah, yeah. Just a little distracted is all. Kind of a lot of things going on at the moment, what with the shrinking brain and crazy shadow ninjas trying to kill everyone still," Stiles rambled, hoping it sounded more lighthearted than it felt coming out of his mouth. His hand rose and he let it fall on Scott's shoulder as he attempted a smile, not noticing the way his friend winced at the mention of his condition. "I'll talk to you later."

Scott nodded his head but said nothing, touching Stiles' hand where it still rested on his shoulder. Stiles turned, climbing into the Jeep and almost immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him. It was something familiar and comforting, despite the things that have happened in and around it. Perhaps that is what gives it its charm. Stiles' long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel for a moment as he took a deep, shaky breath. 

After a couple minutes he started up the Jeep, glancing out the window to see Scott by his bike, looking over at him. The same mixture of concern and suspicion filled his features, only to be guarded away as he pulled his helmet on. Stiles knew that Scott knew he had been lying; he was a werewolf and could hear his heartbeat.

Nothing had been okay since the day he, Scott, and Allison had chosen to be surrogate sacrifices. In truth, the tests that had been run on him only proved what Stiles had been suspecting the whole time the symptoms kept showing. If anything, it had just put a voice to everyone's thoughts and made things worse.

The trees that passed and the road before him blurred together into one dull movement as he headed home. He noticed the absence of his father's car in the driveway when he pulled in. With a sigh he got out of the Jeep, struggling with his backpack and keys when he reached the front door. 

For some reason there was a tremble in his hand as he picked through the keys to find the one he needed. The house was dimly lit when he got inside, barely any light pouring in from the curtained windows. There were a couple night lights plugged in around the doors that would turn off when the rooms got bright enough, each one giving off a faint, soft blue glow. 

Stiles remembered with a small smile the reason they had gotten night lights. His dad had come home late and didn't want to turn on a bunch of lights and wake Stiles up from where he had fallen asleep on the couch, books strewn everywhere and loose papers sprawled out. His dad couldn't see very well and banged his knee on the corner of one of the chairs and with a loud curse woke Stiles up regardless.

Seeing as how his dad wasn't home yet he didn't have the same struggle, flipping on lights as he went on his way to his room. His hand lingered on his doorknob, hovering as he remembered what his room probably looked like still. He hadn't been done investigating everything and trying to piece it all togethe, not by a long shot. Hell, he still wasn't finished with it. He knew, given the time, he would go back to his walls covered in pictures and newspaper clippings and red string. 

The darkness - no, the _sickness_ \- inside of him would see to that.

Taking another deep breath he twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Stiles felt more aware now than he did before, consciously able to ser the robotic, obsessive behavior when regarding the cases. He wasn't sure if that was worse or not, knowing or not knowing. 

As Stiles stepped into his room, however, he looked to the walls and found them empty. The only things that truly remained were pictures and posters that already were on them. Everything else was gone. There was a twinge in his gut then at the realization, hands pushing through his unkempt hair before ruffling it in slight frustration. He fought the impulse to call his dad and demand to know where all of his work was taken, hand dropping to touch his phone through his jeans.

"I took it all down."

The voice cut through his thoughts almost painfully. Stiles jerked around, bag falling to the floor as his shoulders tensed and his eyes widened, looking for the source of the voice that still hadn't registered as being familiar. Derek stood by his desk, absentmindedly prodding at the mess of papers surrounding his computer. Stiles could feel his heart racing but when it sunk in who it was he visibly began to relax.

"Oh, Derek it's you," he heard himself say. "Wait, what are you even doing here? Did you forget I have a front door?" Stiles' voice was defensive as he felt exhaustion creeping even closer.

Derek's mouth twitched and it was hard to tell if it was from amusement ir a tick of irritation. His hazel eyes rose to meet Stiles' and he took a few small steps closer. His leather jacket squeaked faintly when he flexed his arms and Stiles was reminded of the first time Derek had been in his room. His silence was uncomfortable and Stiles found himself swallowing as the seconds ticked by.

"Your father didn't want to touch it but I thought it would be for the best if that cluster of insanity was taken apart," the werewolf said finally, eyes unblinking as they threatened to burn a hole through Stiles. 

He winced at the word, knuckles rapping lightly on the wall he stood beside as he struggled with where to have his restless arms, feeling vulnerable and naked all of a sudden.

"Since when do you care about my wellbeing?" Stiles inquired softly, his gaze falling steadily back on Derek.

He knew the words were probably unfair, considering all they had been through together. Yet Stiles didn't care; he felt utterly defeated. Something flickered across the werewolf's face, though Stiles couldn't place it. Within a matter of seconds Derek surged forward, palm slapping to Stiles' chest and with an effortless shove he sent the boy flying against the wall. 

Stiles gasped, nearly breathless as the air escaped his lungs and his head knocked harshly into the wall. Derek was incredibly close in his space, fingers splayed over his chest and nostrils flaring. Stiles choked, sucking in a breath. He only managed to raise one arm with the little warning he had, hand pressing into Derek's belly. The other rose to push against his shoulder, their bodies nearly touching.

"What the hell man?" Stiles protested breathlessly, face contorted in confusion and now blatant fear.

He was breathing hard, wondering if Derek had truly lost it and now was going to rip his throat out as he had promised so many times before.

"I won't let you take him," was all Derek said by way of a reply, his eyes narrowed and digging deep into Stiles'.

The fear was completely consumed by confusion now. "Derek, what--" Stiles began before he abruptly stopped.

It was as if someone had hit a switch and Derek knew what was happening.

Derek watched as his face fell slack and the humanity drained from his honey-brown eyes. Something dark and eerie fluttered in those big eyes as they returned Derek's piercing glare.

Stiles' hand slid up until his long fingers curled almost painfully on his shoulder. The other hand bunched in his shirt, pinky resting on Derek's now slightly exposed skin. The contact was electrifying, for how little it was. 

Derek's eyebrows pressed together when Stiles pushed faintly back against him. His body strained against the hand still on his chest, neck extending forward until their faces were only mere inches apart. Stiles tilted his head, only Derek knew it wasn't really Stiles. The movement was slight, but it sent a chill down the werewolf's spine.

"You speak as if you truly have any power over us," Stiles spoke deeply, his voice hollow and languid.

Derek felt a pang in his chest; the void speaking with Stiles' mouth and moving his body was nothing short of horrifying.

"We admire your confidence, but it is useless," the nogitsune said, a twisted smile twitching its way across Stiles' wide mouth. 

It didn't last long before his face fell again. The hand against Derek's stomach opened, releasing the fabric of his dark blue shirt. Slowly his fingers unfurled from the werewolf's shoulder, one by one. It was only a matter of seconds, Derek wondering what could be done. 

He felt helpless, knowing if they really wanted the nogitsune gone killing its host would be the best and most reliable option. Derek couldn't fathom doing such a thing. The chain reaction it would cause would be catastrophic, especially if Beacon Hills lost a protector because Scott was crushed with grief. Perhaps that seemed dramatic but it was true. Derek knew it. So did the nogitsune. 

Lost in his thoughts Derek didn't notice his grip slacked on Stiles. Stiles' face twisted into something of a snarl before a blinding white light erupted between them. Like thunder the electricity Snapple through the room, forcing itself from Stiles' palm and straight into Derek, the lights in the entire house humming and flickering. 

With a grunt his body flew across the room, smashing into the wall in the corner. The plaster cracked as he fell to the floor with a gasp of pain. He was twisting to push himself up when he saw Stiles slowly making his way towards him. Faint sparks of white danced around his fingers before fading away, leaving long shadows over the younger man's features.

Derek shivered, body convulsing and muscles aching as they tensed tightly. His body refused him and he collapsed again, claws and fangs aching to come out but unable to. There was a cold, calculated air in the way Stiles moved towards him to kneel and grip his chin. Derek tried to pull away but his body felt weak, the grip like a vice. 

He was forced to look in those two empty voids as they bore into him.

"You should leave us. There is nothing here for you, and next time we won't be so generous," the nogitsune warned, the corner of Stiles' mouth flicking upward.

He released his hold on Derek's face abruptly and rose to his feet, turning away. Derek struggled to get to his feet again, hand bracing the broken wall. He finally got to a kneeling position, body still trembling and aching. 

"You should hear the way he pleads," the thing murmured so softly Derek almost didn't catch it. His head snapped up, staring at Stiles' back.

"Feel the way he struggles," it continued, head down as it inspected its host's hands as they began to shake gently. 

Stiles turned his head, looking at Derek over his shoulder. "We are strong, yet not strong enough. But we will be," the dark spirit promised, the words lingering on Derek as he pushed himself to his full height. The room swam and Derek clenched his hands, nails digging crescents in his palm.

"You can try, but we will destroy you," Derek promised in return, voice acidic as it came from around his clenched teeth.

Stiles turned to face him then, each movement calm and smooth, nothing like Stiles' usually jerky and hyperactive ones. 

"Who? His friends and family? There will be no one for him. We're going to destroy all of them. Anyone who ever meant something to him will perish," the spirit hissed, eyes flashing with irritation.

Derek's jaw flexed, and as much as he wanted to rip the human's throat out he knew he wouldn't. 

"Stop saying 'we' like you and Stiles are one in the same. You're not, and you will be purged from his body... even if it kills him," Derek retorted sharply, voice faltering only slightly. The nogitsune smirked, moving closer once more and studying his face.

"He cares for you, you know. It's just too bad he will never admit it. Nor will he be able to. He is mine now and we are one. We will grow stronger, and the next time we meet it will be so we can break your bones and cut out your heart."

Derek felt the stab like he was meant to, struggling to keep his face blank and his claws to himself. That was when Stiles' body pitched forward and his eyes rolled.

Derek rushed to catch him, stumbling slightly when he caught his dead weight. His head lolled to the side, mouth open and face blank. If Derek couldn't hear his heartbeat he would have thought him dead. He shifted his weight, scooping Stiles up to place him gently on the bed. His even breathing and regular heartbeat suggested he had fallen asleep and wasn't completely out of it and unconscious.

Derek stood by his bed, wondering what the hell to do now. He wasn't sure why he came here to begin with. He gained nothing, except learning the nogitsune was planning to try and get stronger. The information was useless if they had no idea how to get the damned thing out of Stiles or at the very least stop it. 

Stiles' eyelids fluttered, face twitching and fingers flexing against his bed. Derek sat on the bed as the younger man rolled his he's to the other side, hands clutching at the sheets and brows drawing together. He was struggling already with what was going on in his mind. Derek pried at his clenched fingers until he was able to slip his hand into the open space. He wasn't sure what else to do, and he released a breath he didn't realize he was holding when Stiles began to relax. 

They needed to act fast; it was only a matter of time until things escalated. Stiles is a serious threat to everyone in Beacon Hills and now he was something to hunt and destroy to some. There was something hugely wrong with protecting the very thing you're supposed to destroy.

Derek took a deep, slow breath, watching Stiles shift his weight and roll over, shirt twisting around his torso, riding up his hip slightly and exposing a portion of pale skin that definitely caught Derek's attention. The silence was heavy around them, despite the slight noises of Stiles' gentle breathing and a clock ticking away somewhere in the house. Cars passed by every now and again, the people around them oblivious to everything that had transpired. 

Stiles' hand fell away from Derek's when he moved. His body was exposed, laying over his blankets and still fully clothed. Derek started to shrug off his jacket, wincing when his body protested the movement. He would heal, but he doubted if it would be anytime soon. 

Derek draped the leather jacket over Stiles' body, eyes flicking away to the obvious damage in the wall. He took a small breath, gaze falling back down to Stiles. Derek noticed the white plaster residue on his jacket where the back and shoulders were, and with a light hand he brushed it off. He froze when Stiles turned completely on his side, curling in on himself slightly beneath the leather. 

When it seemed that the younger man would sleep well enough Derek rose to his feet slowly, trying not to jostle the bed in the process. He didn't know what to do about the dent in the wall, a couple areas of it having broken into holes. He figured Stiles would be smart enough to figure something out. 

Derek stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room, listening to Stiles' heartbeat. He didn't want to leave, to be honest. Yet at the same time he knew if he stayed Stiles would wake up angry. Of course he would remember Derek having been here. Then again, he was having issues distinguishing dreams from reality... 

He decided not to risk it, turning to leave the room. He turned off the light, going around the corner to the steps and down through the house. It was twilight outside when Derek finally left, nostrils flaring and lungs taking in the air as a caressing breeze swept over him, trailing airy fingers through his hair and across his exposed skin. His muscles still ached and for a brief moment he wondered if the feeling would ever go away. 

Derek let his mind wander, still trying to truly process everything that had just happened and grasp the gravity of the situation as he made his way down his street to whet he had parked. He didn't know what to do, none of them did, and they were running out of time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Scott and Stiles brofeels indefinitely. Next chapter will have some heavy Derek and Stiles interactions, so be on the look out for that. Now that it's summer for me I'll be trying to update this way more frequently.

It was by chance that Scott was awake, lying in bed in the dark, and saw his phone light up. It vibrated on the night stand for what felt like a long time and Scott simply stared at it. His mind had been elsewhere before the small distraction, making it impossible to sleep. Eventually he scooted to the edge of the bed and reached out from beneath the comforter to grab the now silent and dark phone. Tapping the power button the screen came alive once more, showing he had more than the one initial text message. 

Scott’s eyebrow twitched; he hadn’t even noticed the other ones come through. There was one from his mom telling him she would be coming home late again, and another from Isaac asking if he was okay. Scott’s lips pressed together at the obvious answer to the question but he backed out of the message to look at the recent one. It was from Stiles and Scott felt his heart skip a beat, pulling him from his stupor almost instantly. He was fully alert, pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. 

It was a little past midnight now, Scott could see from the numbers on the corner of the phone’s screen. He almost didn’t even want to read the message past the little preview that faded off into little dots. It felt like a horror movie, and if Scott was in any other state of mind he might have found it comical. He drew in a breath, letting it out in a heavy rush. He hated feeling that way about his best friend. 

Scott clicked on the message anyways, regretting it almost instantly he read it. 

_'There’s a hole in the wall and derek was here. Idk what happened and I don’t want my dad to see when he gets home.'_

Scott felt his heart rate increase, only instead of concern and apprehension there was only anger. He threw the blankets off, staggering out of bed with a soft _thud_. He specifically told Derek to keep his distance until they could figure out how to get the thing out of Stiles. Considering Derek’s track record, he assumed it was the best course of action. He didn’t bother changing out of his pajama bottoms, throwing on a shirt that was lying around and slid into his shoes.

The keys jingled gently when he picked them up from his desk and snatched up his helmet. In a matter of minutes he was outside the door and on his bike, situating the helmet and shoving the keys into the ignition. 

 

* * * * * *

 

Stiles’ fingers kneaded at the material in his hands, eyes locked on to the leather jacket though he wasn’t really seeing it. He remembered Derek being here and saying he had taken down everything Stiles had been working on, whether he had been aware of it or not. He remembered what he told the werewolf and then all of a sudden Derek had him against the wall. Stiles vaguely felt his head throbbing from that, and there was a brief moment of panic as he considered that he might actually have a concussion. 

No, no that wasn’t right. There had been no blurriness or sensitivity to lights, no drowsiness or dizziness when he came to from whatever the hell it was. Well, it was something of a lie; he definitely still felt exhausted and weary, as if his energy had bottomed out. Hell, he could practically feel the bags beneath his eyes. 

There was, of course, the event of his blacking out. Stiles didn’t think he hit his head hard enough to fall unconscious, but at the same time he really couldn’t be sure. He fidgeted, eyes twitching with the heaviness of sleep still on them, looking to the wall he had hit. There was nothing there to even show anything had hit it. He couldn’t help but feel that he was missing something important. Stiles let out a small, harsh laugh, the sound explosive in the dead silence of his room.

Of course he missed something important; there was a hole in his wall, a sizeable one at that, and Derek’s jacket had been left here. More specifically it had been on his body, which was kind of weird in and of itself. Even still, Stiles didn’t relinquish his hold on the jacket, one hand lifting from it only to pinch the bridge of his nose where a faint pressure was beginning to build in the center of his head. 

How long had he been asleep? He got home around five o’clock and now it was one in the morning. Stiles couldn’t quite grasp the huge chunk of time that was missing, his heart thudding in his chest the longer he thought about it. It just about leaped from his body entirely when his bedroom door was flung open and Scott rushed in. Stiles gave a shout of surprise, nearly falling off the bed when his body reacted. Scott’s face was a wreck of emotions, each one seeming to swarm in his brown eyes.

“Stiles, why is your front door—“ he blurted out, face falling and eyes darkening when they saw the hole in the wall. “What the hell happened?”

Stiles was still trying to calm himself, trying to catch his breath and still the adrenaline that was now coursing through him. He didn’t realize he had a death grip on Derek’s jacket until his fingers started aching. Slowly he relaxed, letting out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know, dude. That’s why I texted you,” he replied blatantly, trying to not sound aggressive. 

Scott moved closer, putting his helmet on Stiles’ dresser and stepping dangerously close into his personal space. He took several deep breaths, Stiles side eying him and leaning away a fraction of an inch. 

“Are you alright?”

The question was loaded, Stiles knew, but he could hear the sincerity of it and he wanted to break down then and there. Instead he leaned back a bit more, eyeing Scott. 

“Physically, yes. Mentally and emotionally… the jury is still out on that one. I mean, I have a headache that is teasing to grow into a colossal one because of the whole thing, but I’m fine. That’s why I texted you and didn’t call you so you wouldn’t think it was an emergency and rush—“ Stiles prattled on, pausing as he really looked at Scott, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you wearing your pajamas still?” 

Scott was unperturbed by the observation, feeling some slight amusement that Stiles was still all there. Stiles saw it and felt his shoulders sag in response to the small spark in his best friend’s eyes. Scott glanced down at his pants and offered a small smile, his own shoulders slumping with relief. 

“I know. It’s just… the last time you called in the middle of the night…” Scott began, Stiles visibly flinching. There was a long pause after Scott trailed off, Stiles finding it hard to meet his gaze. 

“I just didn’t want to take any chances. I’m glad you’re okay. What’s the last thing you remember?” Scott asked finally, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. 

Stiles huffed and tapped on his toes for a moment, gaze trailing from the huge dent in the wall to the spot he last remembered being in, and then back to Scott. “Well,” he breathed, shifting his weight on the bed. “I came in here after coming home from school and Derek was in here. Which is totally not cool because that means he very creepily climbed through my window because the front door was locked. Anyways, he, uh, said some things and I said some things back and the next thing I know he’s pushing me against the wall.”

Stiles gestured at the spot and heard a soft growl, watching as a bright, glowing scarlet bled through Scott’s eyes. Stiles stared at him for a moment, though his friend made no attempt to respond so Stiles took it as his cue to keep going. 

“Derek said something before I blacked out but I, uh, hit my head and totally went out. I don’t remember what he said…” Stiles’ face twisted in concentration and he looked down, remembering what was in his hands. “I woke up not too long ago with a headache, this jacket on me, and a damned hole in the wall. Now we’re here.”

Scott considered him quietly, deep in thought. Stiles felt naked, being scrutinized the way he was, and he found himself subconsciously pulling the leather jacket closer to his body on his lap. The look was intense for a second, but it wasn’t like the way everyone had been looking at him when he was found in the coyote den and when he was at the hospital. That was a small comfort to him, though it didn’t help much.

“Well, are you okay?” Scott broke the silence finally, eyebrows rising up in inquisition. The question was not new from anyone here recently, and it seemed to be the only question on Scott’s mind since he got here. This time it was different, implying something deeper. Stiles side eyed him again, feeling the annoyance and trying to mask it.

“Aside from the splitting headache and gap of time I somehow missed, peachy,” came his biting response. Scott winced and Stiles felt a small stab of guilt in his gut, eyelids fluttering. His fingers drummed on the cold leather as he looked away. “Sorry, man. It’s just—a lot has been happening and it’s just a little overwhelming.”

Scott nodded but said nothing, falling back into silence. Stiles looked back to him, watching as the werewolf turned to look at the damage. That was when realization set in and he cocked his head slightly, looking back at Stiles. “What happened to all the stuff on your wall?” 

Stiles sighed, scowling as he pushed himself off the bed, turning to look at his walls by his bed. “That’s another thing,” he said simply, hand extending out in irritation. “Derek said he took all of it down and I have no idea where he put it. Or why it even mattered so much to him that he had to, like, show up in my room like a creep.”

Scott scowled with him, rising from the bed and peering around his relatively small room. It was nowhere to be seen, even when he poked around in the stuffy closet and sifted through his dresser. “It has to be around here somewhere. I doubt he would have been able to toss all of that stuff somewhere away from here. If we can find it, we can use it to cover up the damage until we can figure out something better,” Scott offered, crossing the room to the door, not even waiting for Stiles. 

Stiles took the jacket, throwing it in the corner of the room more aggressively than was necessary. He wished Derek had been in it though, because at least that would have been more satisfying. He slipped out of the room, Scott already having gone downstairs to poke around. He pushed the door open to his father’s bedroom, feeling weird poking around. His dad hardly ever was in it enough to make a mess, so by that reasoning alone it should be easy to find a mess of string and articles and other assorted papers. 

When he didn’t find it under the bed or in the closet or anywhere else in the room he felt the frustration building within him once again. Something stirred in his mind, jaw clenching and fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. 

“I found it!”

Scott’s voice was echoing in the silence of the house, muffled from the distance but almost instantly the feeling inside of him dissipated. He rushed downstairs, the sound of a car passing loud and distinct as Stiles made his way through the kitchen to the back door where Scott was standing in its open threshold. “He tossed it in the trash out here. Not very subtle, but that works for us.”

Stiles offered a small smile of his own, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Scott followed him outside and they both dug into the trash, pulling out the piles of papers and string and hoping that any trash inside was already tied off. Stiles felt his stomach sink as they pulled out jumbles of red string, knowing what it symbolized when he was doing his research, forgetting that he actually had that many. Scott didn’t comment on it, taking as much as he could in his hands. They both managed to bunch it all in their arms, albeit not very gracefully and hardly effectively. The string hung everywhere, papers and clippings tending to fall every which way. Scott managed to catch some before they fell, but Stiles fared a little more difficultly, flailing when some flew away as they scrambled back upstairs.

They had plenty of time before Stiles’ dad returned home that much he knew, but at the same time he didn’t want to risk it. Besides, he _needed_ all of this. He somehow felt more comfortable and at peace having recovered it all, urging Scott to dump it all on his bed as he went back downstairs to pick up the strays and close the door. When Stiles got back to his room he found Scott picking through some of the papers, studying them intently. 

He dumped the rest of it on his bed and scratched at his brow, arms folding across his chest and face scrunching up. “I know what it looks like, but I swear I’m on to something. Once I get it sorted back out again I can show you. You know, so maybe it won’t look like I’m such a nutjob, though that’s questionable anyways. Derek said something about that, too, I think when he told me he took it down…“ Stiles trailed off when Scott turned to face him, whatever he was reading put aside as he stepped closer to his friend. 

“It’s okay, bro. I believe you. Besides, this is totally your element. You’ll figure it out. You always do,” Scott said with a smile. Stiles smiled back, even though it was brief and he looked away from him.

His arms fell to his sides and he sat back on the bed, shoving the mess away closer to the wall. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… the nightmares I’m having. The time I keep losing, which seems to be getting longer by the way, the sleepwalking. They were looking for what my mom had, and they found it. Something is different about it somehow. I don’t know- I don’t know what’s happening to me and it-“ Stiles’ words caught in his throat, seeming to tie into a knot. He tried swallowing around it and found it nearly suffocating.

Scott slid down to the bed in front of him, his face twisted in worry. “Hey, hey, it’s all going to be fine, alright?” When Stiles began shaking his head Scott pulled him closer, wrapping him into a comforting embrace. Stiles clutched at him, staring past him as he remembered the hospital before he took his tests, what Scott had said to him. “We’re going to beat this thing, like we’ve beaten everything else that was wrong with Beacon Hills,” Scott murmured, the vibrations of his voice somewhat calming. 

Stiles drew back, wondering if anything would be the same again after this. Scott searched his face, seeming to want some kind of response. Stiles nodded, having a hard time finding words. “You should try and get some rest, dude. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Scott pressed as he stood up, retrieving his helmet from the dresser. 

Stiles drew in a breath, watching Scott cross the room slowly. “Yeah I’ll see you tomorrow,” he responded after a while, giving a half-hearted wave as Scott meandered through the doorway, lingering at the door as if he was considering staying. Stiles sat numbly, hands in his lap, listening to Scott’s footsteps down the stairs and across the floor to the front door. When the door clicked into place with a small squeak Stiles found his footing once more, staring at the pile clustered on his bed. 

He rubbed his face, blinking a few times in hopes that he could push the sleepiness away. He grabbed his last bottle of Adderall, lamenting at the sight that there were only two pills left. Cursing softly he downed them dry, tossing the bottle and setting to work sorting through his evidence and facts. He paused only to clear a spot on the wall around the dent, moving around posters and pictures to make it look obvious that he was rearranging stuff. He began pinning up his web like before, something just feeling _right_ about it. His face was set in concentration, sleep far from his mind even though his body screamed at him for it. 

He covered the hole in posters and pictures, hoping that it would be enough to disguise it without further investigation. That left the adjoining wall free for him to work. Something just was unsettling about the ease in which he sank back into the task, and he paused where he was kneeling on the floor, a tack tucked in between his teeth and fingers holding up a picture on the wall. He was looking past it; however, wondering just how they could possibly figure it all out before it was too late. Stiles wasn’t sure, but he had a dreadful feeling that time was just not on their side for this one, and they were using up too much of it doing nothing. He pushed the feeling aside, removing the tack from his mouth to poke it through the picture he found himself staring at, eyes narrowing. 

It was the Eichen House.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright soooo I suck at these things. Haha. I'm going to be adding more to this story based on the kind of feedback I get. Chances are I will write it anyways but won't post it unless people want to see more. For my first time trying a chapter oriented story I want to ease into it. I'm always real hesitant posting things up. SO YEAH this is totally unbeta'd so bear with me here. I'm also typing this up on my phone so I sincerely apologize for any weird auto correct incidents though hopefully if there are any they'll at least be amusing. 
> 
> Also totally excuse the point of view change I suck at transitions and I didnt really think I could capture the nogitsune correctly from its point of view so thats what happened there. There wont be changes like that throughout the story haha


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